


Signed, the Manhattan Newsies.

by orche_dork



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse later on, Alternate Universe - World War I, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But Mostly Hurt, Dark, Gen, M/M, Medda is everyone's mom, Mentions of past abuse, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia later on, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some hurt/comfort, Suicide later on, acts of terrorism, albert and race are bros, awful attempts at the new york accent im so sorry, davey is overprotective over les, i'll add tags as i think, implied non-con later on, one original character later on, so are crutchie and katherine, the age range is 18-25, the jacobs brothers are hurt a lot, trying to adhere to history here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orche_dork/pseuds/orche_dork
Summary: Jack, Davey, Specs, Race, Romeo, Finch, Henry, Albert, Bill, and Darcy are chosen in the Selective Service Act of 1917 to participate in World War 1. Crutchie is exempted, and is left behind with Katherine, with the promise that the boys will all return.How many of them will be able to hold that promise?





	1. Chapter 1

War. It was never a beautiful thing. In fact, it was quite the opposite. War meant destruction. War was a force that wasn't easily stopped, it was like a wildfire. However, that wasn't to say that it couldn't be. It just wasn't easily paused. The longer it dragged on, the harder it was to put an end to it. So that begged the question, how many lives had to be sacrificed until its desire for blood was quenched? How many years did it have to take? How many people had to give up everything they'd ever known to appease this destructive force? The questions, however, simply can't be answered. They just can't be. 

1917\. The Zimmerman Telegraph had finally prompted America to declare war upon Austria-Hungary. Right off the bat, many young boys had volunteered to be a part of the army, signing up eagerly, ready to have a gun in their hands, ready to defend their country. They were, however, all incredibly naive. No boy knew how much it would hurt them. No boy truly knew the horrors of the battlefield, especially not in such a place as Europe. But that didn't mean every boy signed up. No, many refused to leave their families, refused to abandon everything they had known to love. 

So? They were drafted. Anyone in the age range of 21-30 had to sign up for the army, or they would be arrested. Many fled to other countries to escape this, but, most of them did just agree to the Government's terms, and they could only hope that they hadn't been selected to go off and fight the war that had been raging in Europe for three years. 

"Dammit!" 

Crutchie could hear Jack's voice through the still open door. Crutchie didn't need to go over and ask him what he was so angry about, he knew what happened. He knew as soon as Jack had gotten that fucking letter. Crutchie had been hoping the letter wouldn't be sent to them, that Jack wouldn't receive it, but hoping, evidently, did nothing for him. It just made it more painful, if anything. If Jack was drafted, then that most likely meant the other boys were going to have to fight as well, whether it be by being drafted, or voluntarily. Well, maybe not Les. He was only eighteen. But just because he wasn't drafted, didn't mean he wouldn't go. After all, if Davey went, there was no way in hell that Les wouldn't be following.

He watched as Jack came back into the room, sinking into a chair, rubbing his temples, letter crumpled in one hand. Crutchie limped over to him, taking a seat next to his best friend slowly. "Jack? You a'ight?" 

"Do I look a'ight t'ya, Crutchie? Fuckin' army wants me to go fight in some damn war over in fuckin' France. How is their war our problem, huh? We weren't the ones who started it, dammit!" Jack was essentially shouting, Crutchie not batting a lash at the volume his voice was at. He rubbed his friend on the back gently, looking at the floor, taking slow breaths to keep his composure.

"T' be fair, Jack, they'se our friends, and that means they need us t' help 'em. Maybe they can't just win that whole war on their own." He said, albeit at a rather low volume. It didn't matter, however, it looked like Jack had indeed heard what he said. "Like them Brooklyn boys, they were our friends, so they helped us, because they knew we weren't able t' win that strike all on our own, y'know?"

"Still! I'm... fuck." Jack continued to rub his temples, leaning ever so slightly into Crutchie. Crutchie went quiet, slowly removing the letter from his hand and letting it fall to the floor. "Y'know what's the worst part?" He asked, looking at Crutchie through the corners of his eyes.

"... what?" The response from Crutchie had come out slowly, and a bit quietly, as if he didn't want Jack to tell him. As if he didn't want to know, at all. Which was only partially true.

"That you ain't gon' be able to come. I can't make sure you ain't gettin' bullied, you know how much that 'urts, Crutchie?" 

Crutchie hadn't really been expecting that, but he considered it to be a bit heartwarming, knowing Jack did actually care. Then he quickly felt guilty for feeling happy about what was spoken. It took him longer than he wanted to actually offer Jack a reply.

"Jack. I'll be fine. Kath's gon' be 'ere, ain't she? If I get in trouble, I know she's gon' be 'ere, don't worry 'bout me." He tried to make himself sound assuring, but he knew there was no assuring Jack in a situation as this. All he could do was keep speaking, and hope to God that there was at least a little portion of his words going into Jack's mind. In all honesty, Crutchie wanted to go with Jack, he wanted to be able to stay with the other boys, and to not have to be bound at home because of a bum leg, it pained him not to be able to go. It looked like it pained Jack, too, to not have someone who he considered to be a little brother going with him. "Hey, hey! Davey's gon' be with ya! You got all the boys with ya, Jack! You got that to look forward to, right?" He beamed at the older boy, lightly squeezing his face. Jack rolled his eyes at his face being squished, but he didn't object to it, at least, not verbally. 

"Yeah, yeah. Oh, Davey. I don' want 'im in this fuckin' war, eithah! He got a whole life ahead 'a 'im, and I know how badly all those guns are gon' affect 'im and Les! All the boys... Crutchie, I don't-"

"Jack, stop lookin' at all the bad shit! They'se your family, ain't they? I know they're gon' be hurt by the war, but ya can't prevent that. You, and all of 'em, are smart, I know that you ain't gon' be dead!" Crutchie kept trying to get through to Jack. He could tell it was beginning to work when he saw that light that he was so used to seeing in Jack's eyes reappear. "And, and, when you all get back, you're gon' be heroes! True kings 'a New York, think 'bout that, Jack! Me 'n Kath are gon' be screamin' your names so loudly, that Europe can hear us!" He continued on, grinning at Jack, who was beginning to smile. "C'mon, it ain't that bad! All ya gotta do is know that me 'n Kath are gon' be cheerin' for ya on the sidelines! Rememba that, a'ight? You promise me?" 

"... a'ight, Crutch, just as long as you promise me that you ain't gon' be doin' stupid shit when we're ova there."

"Promise!" 

Jack finally caved into Crutchie's words. He leaned over and hugged him tightly, feeling enlightened when he heard Crutchie giggling. He never wanted that giggle to end. He was going to remember it, so when he was panicking in France, he could be hearing Crutchie giggling. He could probably march up to the enemy soldiers and tell them all about Crutchie, and then they'd know that he, that the boys had to return to such a bright person, and they'd be easier on them. Ha. What a pathetic and childish thought, he quickly dismissed it.

The giggling hid the fact that tears had begun to form within Crutchie's eyes. He didn't let go of Jack for a very long time. He couldn't make himself let go. This was Jack, after all. He might as well've been his real older brother. He didn't want Jack over there, he didn't want any of them over there. He knew that it had to be done, though. So all he could do was keep holding onto Jack, keep hugging him until he was forced to let go. Keep holding onto him, as if letting go would mean that he'd get another bad leg. Keep holding onto him like he'd never be able to again. 

"Oi, oi, Crutchie! I got an idea!" Jack pulled out of Crutchie's arms. It was his turn to grab the sides of Crutchie's face, grinning down at him. "I don't care if I ain't allowed, I'm gon' be writin' to ya whenever I can! I'll get Davey to help! And I promise ya I'll get ya somethin' real cool when we're there, a'ight? I promise!" He assured his younger friend, finally noticing that Crutchie's eyes were glistening with tears. "Hey, hey, don't cry on me, you're gon' make me sad, too. Like ya said, me and the fellas are smart, 'specially Davey. We're comin' back, don't worry. I swear." He softened his tone. Crutchie nodded, putting on a smile, that only lasted for a few moments. 

He couldn't take it. He threw himself back into Jack, sobbing into his shoulder. Jack hugged him back, being able to hold back his own tears with less effort. "It'll be fine, kid, it'll be fine. I promise ya, 'kay? We'll be fine." He murmured, as an attempt to calm the blond down. Did he really succeed? Not really, Crutchie wasn't able to stop the tears from flowing, or the sobs from ripping out of his throat, no matter what he, or Jack did. So after a few moments, he just let Crutchie pour it all out. After all, this could very much be the last time he ever got to let him. This could be the last time that he ever hugged Crutchie. That... terrified him. That scared him, there was no question about it.

Actually, he knew it was extremely likely that he wouldn't be coming back. He knew that anything could happen. He could be taken prisoner, he could be killed, he could miss the ship back to America, he could die of disease, he could die of hunger, he could die of thirst, anything. Anything could happen that would mean he would never be able to see, or hear Crutchie ever again. There was a very likely chance that there would be no seeing Katherine, either, which stabbed at him a few times.

So what point was there in trying to end the moment they were having now? There wasn't one.

There simply wasn't one.


	2. Chapter 2

Crutchie wished he could just make them stay. He wished he could make this war just fuck off, to just end right now. He wanted none of them in those damned trenches. He wanted none of them in the battlefield. Especially not Jack, especially not Les. Les was only 18, he was a child. They wouldn't really let a child like him into this war, would they? They couldn't. They could exclude Crutchie for having a bum leg, but they couldn't exclude an 18 year old? Well, he did join on his own accord, but... that didn't make it better.

The blond watched all of the boys, watching them lace their boots up, watching them ensure they had everything they needed. Davey was talking to Les about something, a golden pocket-watch in his hand. He had pressed it into Les' palm, and Les had suddenly looked tearful, Crutchie could see that from here. Race had his cigar dangling from his mouth, which was soon stolen by Albert, who he hit on the arm when the deed was done. Cigars had always been a prized possession of Race's. Henry, Tommy, Spot, Elmer, Finch, and Specs were all talking amongst each other. And Jack? Jack was talking to Katherine, no doubt asking her to help out with Crutchie. Crutchie hated that idea. He didn't mind Katherine in the slightest. In fact, they were quite good friends. But he felt so pathetic having to have someone watch over him. It was stupid, in his opinion. But if it was Jack's judgement, it was probably for the best.

"Watch the faces of them soldiers when they see us! They'se gon' be tremblin', seein' us, the kings 'a New York!" Race grinned at everyone, an energised cheer erupting through the soon-to-be soldiers. Crutchie had to admit, he smiled at Race' enthusiasm. Even Davey was smiling. Jack caught the eye of Crutchie, giving him a wave.

"Oi, fellas, don' forget to say bye to Crutchie 'n Kath, they'se gon' be rootin' for us when we'se gone!" Jack told them all. Les was the first to go to Crutchie, throwing his arms around his neck, almost knocking him off of his crutch. Soon, the other boys joined in, Crutchie almost falling once more. He laughed and tried to embrace them back with his one arm that was free.

"Stop that, I'm gon' bust the otha leg!" He tried to joke around, but his lighthearted voice wasn't there anymore. Race grabbed the sides of his face, grinning down at him. Then he let go, and went to give his affections to Katherine. Les looked up at Crutchie.

"Why are we sayin' bye? Isn't Crutchie-"

"Crutchie has a bad leg. The army won't let him." Davey quickly explained, sounding glum as he said the words. He looked back at Crutchie, giving him another hug. "I'm sorry-"

"Don' apologise, you didn't tell them to exclude people like me." Crutchie cut him off, not wanting to hear the same words that Jack, that Race, that Henry, that Specs, that all of them had spoken before numerous times. If he wanted pity, he would've damn well asked for it. He didn't want anyone to pity him, it made him feel pathetic. "B'sides, if you do, I'm gon' start cryin'." He added on, Davey sighing, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"Keep yourself out of trouble, please."

"Only if you and the other fellas do the same."

"Promise." Davey ensured, Crutchie smiling and giving him a thumbs-up. Davey looked to the train, the light in his eyes diminishing. "You keep an eye out for that train, we might be on it again in a year or so." He murmured to Crutchie, Les tugging on his sleeve. Even though Les was 18 now, he was still quite shorter than Davey was. They looked towards the train. They sighed, knowing it was time to go. "Stay safe for us, okay? You too, Kath." He told them both. Les ran up to Katherine again, giving her a hug.

"We will. While you boys are off fighting, Crutchie and I will be bragging about how great you all are." Katherine was grinning, but her eyes were brimming with tears. She didn't necessarily want to say goodbye. She heard tales of war in school, and how bloody they were. And with technology now? How many people would perish? What if the lives lost involved them? It was awful to imagine, so she tried to shut it out. Didn't go in her favour, particularly.

She and Crutchie watched as the boys finally went to the train, Albert and Race getting into a play fight on the way. One of them, however, didn't go; Jack. Jack stayed behind. He looked at the two who weren't leaving, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He rushed back to them, pulling them both into a hug, doing his best not to break into sobs. The two hugged him back, Crutchie squeezing his back, unwilling to let him go. Katherine held tight to Jack, too. She couldn't lose him. He was one person that she would be devastated to lose. Their relationship hadn't lasted for long, but that didn't mean that they weren't good friends. 

"Stay safe. Please, I'm beggin' ya." Jack pleaded, pulling away from them. The two nodded. Why wouldn't they? They might as well promise one thing to him. 

"We will, don't... don't worry. Like I said, we're both going to be bragging about all of you, I promise." Katherine reassured him, giving him a grin. "You just have to keep an eye on everyone for us, especially Les, please."

"I will." Jack assured her, turning his back-

"Jack! Don't go." 

The words had come from Crutchie. Dammit. He slowly turned back to them, seeing Crutchie go up to him, grabbing him by the sleeve. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. It hit as soon as he saw that Crutchie had tears running from his eyes. Katherine stood next to him, lightly putting her hand on his shoulder, taking a deep breath, trying to keep herself together. Jack rubbed Crutchie on the head, forcing a smile onto his face. And it did nothing to comfort Crutchie. If anything, it made things worse. Couldn't he just keep that smile forever? Even if it was forced, it was a smile that Crutchie might never be able to see again. And that horrified him. 

"I gotta, I don'-"

"Oi, Jack, get your ass up 'ere!"

Race. Jack sighed, glaring at the train. He knew what was waiting for them. But he had a promise to keep, to the army. He backed towards the train slowly, inhaling sharply. He pulled away from Crutchie slowly, turning his back to him and Katherine once more. He looked up at Race, who was sticking his head out the window. He looked back at Crutchie and Katherine only once more, but he stared for a while, mentally taking a photo, so he could remember them when they were fighting. After he got his mental picture, he stepped onto the train, taking his seat next to the Jacobs brothers, squeezing his knuckles in an attempt to relieve some stress. It only hurt him.

But this was a time where he couldn't give less of a damn.


	3. 3

**Make it stop. Make it stop.** **_Please, for all that is good, make it stop! Make it stop!_ **

Had the words been spoken, or were they merely in the mind of the younger Jacobs brother? He didn’t quite know, and quite frankly, he didn’t care. If they were spoken, then he assumed he wasn’t heard over the sound of gunfire and explosions. They were so loud, fuck, they were  _ so damn loud. _ Covering his ears did nothing. He curled in on himself, hiding the fact that he was crying. He thought it was stupid. They were only in the reserve trench, it wasn’t like they were even in the first line, or the second. It was just the fucking reserve, and he was already handling it poorly. Curling up did nothing to stop the horrible sounds from penetrating his ears. He only realised he was screaming when his throat felt sore.  _ Pathetic. _

He didn’t panic at the sudden hug. He did snap his attention to who was holding him, seeing that it was just Davey. Les didn’t hesitate to lean into him, digging his nails into his back, burying his face into his shoulder. 

“Les, calm down, calm down, you’re alright. You’re alright, I promise you, you’re alright.” Davey had to somewhat shout so that he could be heard over the other sounds, that were trying to drown out his own words. It was killing him to see how badly Les was taking being in the trenches. He should’ve done more to convince him to stay home, he was beginning to think that. Maybe Les wouldn’t be screaming so loudly for all of this to stop if he had done more to make him stay home. But he didn’t, and now, he was feeling dreadful for it. No, more than dreadful. 

He hated this stupid war. He hated every single aspect of it. He wasn’t even sure what the fuck caused it to erupt into something like this, all he had known was something about an assassination. What help was that? It wasn’t like this was a fight for freedom, this was a fight to fight. They were saying it was a “war to end all wars”, but Davey didn’t really believe that was the case. There was no way in hell that all wars would stop because of this one, there was no way. But did he actually say that? No, he kept that opinion to himself. After all, who the fuck was going to listen? At night, through the trenches, he could hear the German soldiers on the other side. They sounded tired, exhausted from the endless fighting. It was slightly relieving to know that they were also tired from this unnecessary bloodshed. 

But he suspected the main reason he hated this war was because of the effect it had on Les. No. Not just on Les. On all of them. They were all managing to keep up their energy and spirit, but it was clearly beginning to not work for them. Race smoked more often than he ever had before, Jack had gradually begun to stop writing to Crutchie, which was really confusing to Davey, and even Albert had become more quiet than he was in the past. Les? Davey was almost positive that he’d never be able to sit quietly through any sort of storm ever again. He was sure that there’d be nightmares haunting him for as long as he lived, and as the elder brother, it made him feel worse than he already did.

“Is he gon’ be okay?”

Jack. Davey looked up at him, then at Les, who’s sobs had become quieter now. That was a good sign, right? He shrugged, letting his eyes travel back to Jack. “I… I think so. I don’t know, though.” He answered, watching Jack sit next to him, sighing heavily. Davey noticed the little slip of paper poking out from his belt, but he didn’t ask about it. He just assumed it was a letter to Crutchie. 

“What ‘bout you?”

“... I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

Jack frowned, giving him a quizzical look. He didn’t like how Davey had hesitated to speak, it simply told him that no, he wasn’t sure he’d be fine. Davey couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. He dropped the little contact they had, watching as injured soldiers started to come in. The two could see the foul crimson substance that adorned the faces, arms, torsos, and legs of the soldiers. Les couldn’t force himself to look. So he left that job up to the other two. Jesus, it was a sight. Some were carrying their allies. One boy was clutching his face, trying desperately not to scream. They could see the blood rolling through the cracks between his fingers, and the blood that was around the hand. Jack went over to him, Davey slowly standing up, Les letting go as he did. Davey went to help the bloodied boy, taking the bandages out from within his jacket.

“Davey, you got a clue as to-”

“Pull his hand away, try to keep him calm. If it’s what I think it is, all we can do is try to stop the bleedin’.” Davey ordered. Jack took a moment to process his order. Then he grabbed onto the wrist of the boy, who tried to pull away. 

“Oi, hey, don’ worry, Davey’s good with this stuff, stay still.” Jack grabbed onto his other arm, slowly pulling his hand down. Davey saw, immediately, that he was right. An eye wound. He almost puked at the sight of it, almost dropping the gauze in his hands. He knew it wasn’t a gunshot. Grenade shrapnel, maybe? Whatever it was, it had fucked around with this boy’s eye. Quickly recovering from his surprise, he went to work, wrapping the bandage diagonally, of course being sure to cover the eye. It was a makeshift job, it was only to staunch the bleeding. He’d have to have Specs cover the rest. 

“God  _ dammit,  _ it hurts so bad-”

“I know, I know. Try to stay calm, alright?” Davey cut him off, turning to Jack. “Jack, can you get Specs for me? He knows more than I do.” He requested, Jack slowly relenting his grip on the soldier’s arm, nodding and going off to get him. Davey turned back to the soldier, almost falling back as the soldier grabbed onto his arms, shaking badly. Davey didn’t tell him off, he just let him hang on. 

“Am I going to die?” He asked, voice cracking. That was a question Davey hadn’t expected. He frowned, shaking his head.

“No… no, Specs will help you.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“A friend, he’s a good medic, I promise. You just have to hold on, okay?” 

The soldier looked away from Davey, his grip tightening on his arms. Now, Davey could feel the slight amount of pain from how tightly he was holding his arms. “Thank-”

A grenade explosion. The boy shrieked, curling into Davey, who evidently, didn’t know what the fuck he had to do. He looked over to where Les had been sitting, seeing him desperately trying to block out the ambiance of battle. Davey looked back to the soldier, gently patting his shoulder. “It’s fine, you’re in the reserve trench, you’re not gonna get blown up here.” He promised, watching Jack and Specs come into view.

Specs rushed up to them, gently pulling the soldier off of Davey, looking over where the elder Jacobs brother had put the bandages. Jack looked at Davey, silently asking him if he was doing alright. Davey responded with a nod, going to Les, kneeling in front of him. He put his hands on Les’, which were covering his ears. Jack knelt beside him, patting Davey on the back.

“Ya sure you’se gon’ be a’ight? Ya look worse than earlier.” 

“I told you, don’t worry, I’m gonna be fine.” Davey, this time, meant what he said. Jack grinned, putting one arm around his shoulders. 

“Good! That’s what I like t’ hear. Now, what ‘bout Les?”

“Like I said earlier, I don’t know.” Davey let his eyes travel back to Les, then to Jack. Jack took a few moments to formulate something to say to the younger Jacobs brother. He got it.

“Hey, hey! Think ‘bout Crutchie and Kath, Les. Think ‘bout ‘hem, think of the betta times ya got with ‘em, a’ight? Think-”

“I wanna go home! I don’t wanna be in this fuckin’ war anymore! Make the shots stop!” Les shrieked, piercing the ears of Jack and Davey. Davey felt a sting of guilt plunge into his stomach. He pulled Les forward, trying to get him to be quiet. Les moved his hands away from his ears, letting them fall onto the backs of Davey’s shoulders. Jack looked at Davey with sympathy. 

“I know ya don’t, Les. None of us do. But they can’t keep firin’ their guns and throwin’ grenades at our faces forevah. We’ll be outta these trenches, sooner or later. I swear.” Jack continued, still trying to calm Les down. He meant every word he said. Yeah, they were going to be out of those trenches. Jack was going to make sure that happened. But not yet. Trying to escape these trenches was a death sentence. Either you got shot leaving, or you got blown up, or sliced apart on No-Mans Land. They really were going to have to wait, but Jack knew that the other soldiers were tired as well, worn from fighting. They had to break soon, it was inevitable. Right? 

“Jack?” 

The voice belonged to Davey. Jack turned his attention to him. 

“Yeah?”

“You don’t mean dese-”

Jack quickly covered his mouth with one hand, glaring at him. “Keep your trap shut, Davey! No, I don’t mean that!” He lowered his voice to an aggressive whisper. “I… not now, anyway. But you don’t breathe a word ‘bout that, ya hear me?” He waited for Davey to agree with a nod, before releasing his grip. Les looked like he was about to ask, but got cut off by Davey silently telling him not to.

_ Not now, anyway. _

They all knew the price for desertion. It was death, or imprisonment. Was Jack crazy enough to think that they could really leave, even after they were out of the trenches? Who knew how long the trench battles were going to last? Where would they even go, Spain? Luxembourg? Italy? Not Germany, Germany was the enemy. They only had limited places, and they were extremely far away. What was Jack thinking? Well… Davey knew Jack well enough, to know that whatever the hell he had in mind, it could work. But was extremely unlikely, especially if one of them got injured. 

But the thought itself was soothing enough for Les. He could only think of getting into another country. He knew Spain wasn’t fighting them. If they all got to Spain, then they’d be okay! Right? If they got to Spain, they were almost guaranteed to see Katherine and Crutchie again. The simple thought of that made Les feel a bit more at ease with the situation around them.

But “a bit” wasn’t quite enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow obvious foreshadowing is  
> obvious  
> also oOF pacing-
> 
>  
> 
> aNYWAY whoopie here's 3! i promise i'm gonna get to more shippy stuff soon, especially with jack and davey. i'm sorry i've been trying really hard on the war aspect that i haven't gotten much ship stuff in here  
> but it's coming soon i swear!!!


	4. Chapter 4

It was dark now. The sun had set long ago. And it felt like it took the morale of everyone with it. Specs fiddled with his dirtied glasses, saying nothing. Les had fallen asleep against Davey, which was good, in Davey’s eyes. Finally, Les was getting some rest, which he had been deprived of for a while, now. Jack looked at the Jacobs brothers, wanting to discuss things with Davey. He parted his lips to say something, then he let it die. He shook his head, looking away. So many people had died, already. A mix of the diseases, the gas, bullets, and wires. They were getting nowhere. Albert and Race didn’t even speak to each other. Race, the one who was always making witty jokes and sarcastic comments was now silent. His hair had gotten a bit longer, it now slightly dangled over his eyes, which were currently cast on the ground. And Albert, the one who was supporting his stupid comments. It was like they had lost their ability to say anything of the sort, and it killed everyone else.

 

Jack searched around the ground around him for a pencil. There was none. He resorted to smearing dirt on his fingers. He removed the piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it. Davey looked over, upon hearing the sound. He watched as Jack… was he writing? Or was he drawing? Davey couldn’t quite tell. He saw that Jack was struggling, his eyes squinted, and his shoulders sloped forward.

 

“... you shouldn’t do that. It’s dark, hard to see.” Davey finally spoke up, his throat scratchy as he spoke. “You’re going to hurt your eyes.” He added on, as an attempt to make his point clearer. Jack looked over at him, giving him a shrug. The light that Davey was familiar with seeing in Jack’s eyes was no longer there. It felt like a punch in the gut when he saw the light was gone. He pressed his lips together, watching as Jack sighed, placing the paper back in his pocket, looking at his now dirtied fingers. He pushed his hair back, free arm resting on his knees, which were now on his chest. Davey wanted to move over to him, but he had Les resting on him. He remained still. They could all hear an agonised shriek from the enemy lines, which was quickly cut off. Race shook his head, his hand placed over his eyes. Albert let his hand on his shoulder, looking at the ground. Davey had covered Les’ ears as soon as he heard it, waiting for the silence to return before uncovering them. 

 

Jack stood up, just so he could sit next to Davey. He blinked a few times, and now that he was closer, even in the darkness, Davey could see he looked tired, and like someone sucked the life out of him. Which, sadly, wasn't far from the truth.

 

“I’m sick of this shit.” He finally muttered. Davey didn’t respond. “How long’ve we been ‘ere, Davey? We’ve been waitin’ for God knows how long, and we’ve only gotten people killed. We have made _no progress._ This is stupid.” He added on with a heated tone. Davey freed a hand so he could rub Jack on the back, unable to offer a response. Race looked back up, the cobalt hues of his eyes slightly obscured. They were dull, now, no longer radiant. He stared at Jack, silently agreeing with what he had said. He was right, this was all just painful waiting. Waiting until either they surrendered, or the Germans surrendered. And he was tiring of it. One part of him wanted to get up and run away, but where would he go? Where would _they_ go? He knew nothing about European geography, he just knew they were in France. That was it. He looked back down. Specs tried to clean his lenses, but it was of no use. He looked back at Jack and Davey. 

 

“I think we all are, even the Germans.” Davey finally managed to respond. Jack heaved another sigh, leaning his head back on the wall. “Get some rest.” 

 

“I’m fine, Davey-”

 

“You look dead. Try-”

 

“No. I’m fine.”

 

“J-”

 

“Davey, I’m fine, seriously.” 

 

“Jack. Come on. You’re not.” He kept insisting, Jack rolling his eyes and letting his arms cross. Davey sighed, realising that no amount of arguing would make Jack sleep. 

 

However, he didn’t expect Jack to lay his head on Davey’s other shoulder, blinking a few times. Davey looked down at him, eyes going slightly wide. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he let his hand fall on the back of his shoulder, feeling Jack trying to get in a more comfortable position, wrapping his arms around Davey’s. At first, Davey did think that he had fallen asleep. He felt Jack relax more than he had in the past few days, which was good. But he suspected that, no, he hadn’t gone to sleep yet. He looked over at Race, who looked back at him, not saying anything to the elder Jacobs brother. 

 

For a few moments, there was silence. That was good, there were rarely any moments of silence in the trenches. It felt peaceful for the boys. However, the silence was disturbed, by a few wet coughs. They all looked to see Specs coughing into his hand, looking down at it, and then letting it go to his side, a little bit of paleness to his face. That wasn’t good. Davey frowned, one part of him hoping it was a simple passing cough, another part beginning to suspect worse.

 

“You alright?” He asked quietly, as not to disturb either boy using him as a place to sleep. Specs nodded, pushing his dirtied glasses up. 

 

“Nevah been bettah, Davey. Don't worry.” He assured him, although, Davey could hear the very slight strain in his words, which put him off. He opened his mouth to press on, but when he felt Race glaring at him, he let whatever he wanted to say die on the tip of his tongue. Race looked away from him again, looking back at Albert, slightly leaning into him, blinking slowly. They were all tired, there was no questioning it. Davey looked down at Jack, seeing that, finally, he had fallen asleep, arms still wrapped around his. Les didn’t seem to have contracted any nightmares, which was relieving to Davey. But he knew it wouldn't be long until there'd be one plaguing the sleep of his little brother.

 

There were many questions that the boys wanted to ask each other, but… this was one of their only times there was silence. So they cherished it, the only sounds now being the occasional wet coughs from Specs, which truly began to worry Davey. But, for now, he didn’t press him. He just looked up to the sky, letting his mind wander to other subjects. Were Crutchie and Katherine doing well? He hoped so, it felt like it had been eons since he’d seen them. And what about Darcy and Bill? Henry? Romeo? Finch? Spot? They hadn’t heard from any of them since they got to the trenches. Were they alive? Dead? Captured? What? The very thought of them being dead made Davey sick to his stomach.

  
He just found that he couldn’t think of anything  _ but  _ the worst. Which made him wonder.

 

Was this the part of the war that no one ever spoke of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGEIULAJTEHJT 
> 
> school's been trying to kill me, and i've just overall been more busy than i would've liked, i'm very, very, very sorry that this took so long to come out, and that it's really short, i'm sorry :(
> 
> i'll really try to push out updates more often, and make them longer, i promise!!! thank you to everyone who's left a kudos, or bookmark, or comment, anything! i love you all <3


	5. Chapter 5

_ “Is this your way of escaping?”  _

 

_ He frowned. What was this? Had he not fallen asleep? Where was he? He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. There was nothing but a battlefield under his feet. It was quiet. Empty. Had the fighting ended so quickly? He looked to the sky, it was dawn, perhaps. Behind the thick gray clouds, it was harder to tell. The colour of the sky was a mix of oranges, yellows, and grays, however, they were all muted. So he guessed it was sunrise. Early sunrise? He looked around the battlefield. There was nothing. No one. Not a bomb in sight. The barbed wire was there, the trenches were there, but that was it. So who was speaking?  _

 

_ “This is what you want, isn’t it?”  _

 

_ Well… not really. He wanted off of this battlefield was what he wanted. The quiet was fine, sure, but the battlefield itself was still horrendous to look at. He shook his head, continuing to look around. He took a step forward, expecting to feel a mine snuff him away. But there was nothing. Just the crunch of his boot on the ash covered ground. Another step forward, nothing. He almost smiled at it. But something wasn’t right.  _

 

_ “What’s the matter? There are no bombs. No mines. No soldiers. Nothing. Why do you hesitate?”  _

 

_ That’s what was off. Where were his friends? He slowly looked to the trench behind him, turning so he was facing it. They were strangely silent. His heart froze. Where were they? Davey? Race? Where? Were they okay? He would part his lips to ask, only to realise there were no words coming out. He tried again, no new result. Whatever, he could worry about his voice when the worry about his friends was gone.  _

 

_ “You want to go back there?”  _

 

_ Yes. Just for a moment. Just to make sure that they were either out of the trenches, or asleep. He slowly approached it, reaching for where his weapon was. It was only then did he realise how rigid his shoulders had become. Only when he had his pistol in his hands, only when he was nearing the edge of the trench. This was the first line. He wouldn’t find them here. So he went around, walking along the edge, the crunch of his boots and his steady breathing being the only sounds he could hear. That was strange, too. No ambience. There were no birds, no animals… nothing. Dead silence.  _

 

_ He kept going, finding that he was walking faster. Waiting until he could get to the reserve trench. He looked side to side, nothing. His index fingers hovered over the trigger. Wait… wait, why did he not have a rifle with him? Why a pistol? Fine. As long as it was a weapon that he could operate. He went faster, breaking into a light jog. He tried to call for them. Again, no sounds. A soft chuckle went through his ears, but that was it. He spun around, holding his gun up, pointing it wherever his eyes went. No one was there. He walked backwards, looking over his shoulder. No one. Had it simply been his imagination? _

 

_ He was there. His chest was heaving, he hadn’t realised how much he had been running until he had finally gotten to the edge. But here he was. All he had to do now was check.  _

 

_ “Cap’n?”  _

 

_ Les! Good! He grinned, hopping into the trench, looking right at the younger Jacobs brother. Now that he was looking at him, he could see how being 18 had changed him. Not a lot, but quite a bit. He was tall now. Not Davey’s height, by any means, but that was okay. He took a few steps forward, looking around. Where were the others? He looked back at Les. The younger boy remained still. He lowered his gun, frowning. That was odd… Les was the only one here? What about Davey? What about Race, Albert, all of them? Where had they gone?  _

 

_ “I’m sorry.”  _

 

_ What was he sorry about? He rose an eyebrow, continuing to approach Les, holding a hand out, the other continuing to hold onto the gun. Les slipped to his knees, shocking him. He stopped, blinking a few times. What happened? He took another few steps forward, this time, they were more rushed. He knelt down, to Les’ eye level. Les looked up at him, no light shown in those toffee coloured hues. Now that he saw… they were dull. His heart sank. He looked down, seeing that there was crimson colouring the floor. Back at Les. The boy slumped forward, his face planting on the ground.  _

 

_ “Gone… soldiers… return them…”  _

 

_ That was it. That was all he was able to make out. He slowly reached out, feeling for a pulse. There was none. His breathing quickened. Return them… what the fuck? He could weep later, then. He climbed out, and he ran across the battlefield, trying to erase the image of the dead Les out of his head. What the fuck happened? He kept running. He couldn’t be too late, right?  _

 

_ He stopped at the front line, looking down. There was one body. Specs. His jaw went slack when he looked at him. Specks of blood were on his shirt, and on his hands. His head was lolled to the side, eyes rolled up into his head. Skin that was normally rich with colour was now ashen, and laden with spots. Disease? He looked back to the enemy trench, not wishing to look at him anymore. Tears flooded his eyes. Were they all gone? He ran across the battlefield.  _

 

_ Laughter, again, rang through his ears. He stopped, looking around wildly.  _

 

_ “If you value yourself, don’t go forward.” _

 

_ Shut up. He ran again, shaking his head, both hands back on the pistol, pulse roaring. His breathing was heavy, now. His vision began to blur. Was that because of the tears in his eyes? Or something else? He froze, feeling his shoulders become suddenly sore. Why were they so sore? Then his face. His cheeks felt warm, cut, bruised. Had the temperature dropped? What happened? Why couldn’t he move? He wanted to cry, scream for any of his friends. But he didn’t, he couldn’t.  _

 

_ “I told you.”  _

 

_ That condescending voice. That hideous snicker. It made his blood run cold. Something was wrong. This couldn’t be right. Just a few more steps before he reached that other trench, why couldn’t he? He tried to kick, or simply move anywhere. Nothing worked. He was just… frozen in time.  _

 

_ “Maybe next time, you’ll listen.”  _

 

_ No… there was no next time. There was pain all over his body, now. Everything was sore, cut, maybe. He felt like the ground had dropped beneath him, but he didn’t fall. Why didn’t he fall? He looked down, wanting this to be over- _

 

“Oi, get your ass up!” 

 

His eyes flew open. He gasped, looking around. It was morning, from the look of it. Oh no, oh no, oh no. His breathing was shallow, as he looked at his friends. Race was sitting in front of him, arms folded tightly across his chest. The other newsboys looked concerned, as if they’d been watching this for a while. He realised he was still up against Davey. He looked up at him, seeing that he was looking right back, looking confused. Les was awake, sitting next to him.

 

“‘Bout time! The fuck ‘appened t’ ya, Jack?! Y’ were sayin’ shit ‘bout us? Where we were or some shit? We’se right ‘ere!” 

 

“Race, I don’t think shouting at him is gonna help.” Davey intervened, not taking his eyes away from Jack, surprised when the boy threw himself onto him, arms folding around his neck. Davey frowned, slowly placing his hands on his back. Specs pushed his glasses up, sighing. Albert rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Race looked like he’d seen something like this before, so he didn’t look very surprised at all. He just looked to the side, pushing some blond curls away from his face, only to have them fall back into their original place. Les rose an eyebrow, looking at Race for an answer, to have Race shrug his shoulders in response. 

 

“Nightmare. Had to be.” Davey explained, but that was all he could offer. After all, right now, he was more focused on the shaking and trying not to cry Jack. What was he supposed to do? What sort of nightmare could’ve prompted this? Whatever… all he had to do was think of a solution to this issue. He rubbed Jack’s back as gently as he could, hoping that would do  _ something _ . “... calm down, Jack, wherever you were, you’re not there now. We’re all here.” He said in a softer manner, waiting to hear the sounds of gunfire again. He would cover Jack’s ears as soon as he heard, he reminded himself to. But he didn’t hear them, so it wasn’t necessary… for now. 

 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha... yeah. so, funny story! i was going to update this sooner. but... i lowkey got into another series, so... yeah... but! i'm back now! i'm still loving newsies, still trying to write this fic as coherently as possible. uuh, this chapter could be a huge letdown, especially since it's been a while, so i'm so, so, so sorry. :( but i hope there's at least a sliver of enjoyment T.T
> 
> lemme just say this looked a lot longer on my doc than it did here-

**Author's Note:**

> wOO ok so uh  
> this was a bunch of ideas that i got in my head suddenly that i wanted to write down, due to having seen newsies recently, and having a big interest in world war 1.  
> i should probably say this, i have parts of this story written already, in a sense? so some chapters come out quicker than others, heads up.
> 
>  
> 
> and please pardon my attempt of a new york accent-


End file.
